A Proper Courtship
by ShannonSto
Summary: GS. The chase is on. Pointless Fluff warning! Complete.
1. Drunken Rambling

**A/N**:  Post-Butterflied.  For all of us still waiting for Grissom to chase Sara.  Thank you to the chatters at PwF.

**Spoilers**: None for any episode that hasn't aired.

**Disclaimer**:  In case anyone has forgotten (I wish I could), I don't own anything.

A Proper Courtship 

Sara Sidle counted out her change while the bartender retrieved her sandwich.  It was hard to get a decent sandwich so late at night, and she was fortunate to have found this bar near the lab.  She hadn't found it, actually.  It was where the lab employees would sometimes come for breakfast or a drink after shift.  Twenty-four hour bars were just another of Nevada's quirks.

"Here you go," the bartender handed her the sandwich.

"Thanks," she smiled, depositing her money on the bar.  As she turned to leave, the bartender stopped her.

"Hey, you know that guy, right?" he pointed to a familiar figure at the other end of the bar.  _Grissom!_  Recognition registered in Sara's brain.

"Uh, yeah."

"If he's a friend of yours, you'd better get him out of here before we have to throw him out," he warned.

"Okay, I'll take care of it."

Making her way down the bar, she stopped beside Grissom, who was staring into his scotch.  "Hey."

He grinned from ear to ear upon hearing her voice. "Hey, yourself.  What are you doing here?  Sit down, I'll buy you a drink," he offered with slurred speech.

"Oh, I think you've had enough for both of us," Sara met his smile with her own. "Come on, let me get you home."

"Are you going home with me?" he grinned salaciously.

"I'm driving you home, yes," Sara helped him to stand. "After that, you're on your own."  

She turned to the bartender, "Is he all paid up?"  The bartender nodded affirmatively and Sara and Grissom left the bar.

In the parking lot, Grissom staggered toward his car. "Give me your keys," Sara demanded.  Grissom grudgingly complied.

Sara managed to get him settled into her car, and they were off to his townhouse.  The drive was anything but boring. Grissom rattled on and on about various inanities, which to an intoxicated person were no doubt deep thoughts.  Sara decided drunken Grissom was very amusing.

"That's a nice outfit, by the way," he slurred. "Blue looks great on you.  Oh what the hell am I talking about? _Any_ color looks great on you."

"Grissom—"

"No, seriously.  You'd look great in anything.  Or nothing?"

"Grissom—"

"I can't believe I said that."

"Grissom!"

"What?!"

"We're here."

"Oh."

It was a long walk from the parking space into the townhouse with a drunk man leaning on her, and Sara was grateful when she was finally able to let him fall back onto his couch.  She dropped her keys on the coffee table and excused herself to use the restroom before heading home.  When she returned, the keys were gone.

"Where are my keys?"

Gil grinned like the cat that ate the canary, "What keys?"

"Grissom, I need my keys so I can go home."

"You took my keys, so I took yours.  You have to stay."

"Give me my keys!" 

"No."

"Fine. You know what? I'll stay.  Right here on the couch," she threw up her arms in defeat. "You, however, will go to bed and sleep this off."

"Sara," he leaned into her. "Stay with me.  I know you want to." Before Sara knew what was happening, he was lying over her on the couch, covering her with kisses.  It was wonderful, and yet, wrong.  Though she desperately wanted to give herself to him, she knew that this was only happening because of the alcohol.  Tomorrow he would be sober and forget anything ever happened. Or worse yet, he would blame her for exploiting the situation. Finally finding the strength, she put her hands to his chest and pushed him back.

"Grissom, no. Not like this."

"I thought you wanted this."

"I want the total package, Grissom, not an alcohol-induced one night stand.  Come see me when you're sober."

With the look of a man stung by a wasp, Gil stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door.  Sara curled up on the couch, but sleep didn't come easily.

As the daylight filtered in through the blinds, Sara unconsciously flung her arm over her eyes.  Grissom gently laid a blanket over her, placed her car keys on the coffee table and started making breakfast.  He knew he owed her an apology.  If his unarguably hazy memory served him correctly, he had behaved very disrespectfully toward her.  He prayed she wouldn't think it had only been about sex, but what else could she think? He'd never offered her anything else.  He started the coffee maker and cracked the eggs open to scramble them.  

The aroma of coffee brewing was the first thing Sara noticed.  Grissom was puttering about the kitchen, apparently making breakfast. She wondered if he remembered anything about last night.  She parked herself in a stool at the breakfast bar and watched as he turned and saw her.

"Good morning," he greeted cheerfully.

"Morning," she grumbled. She really needed that caffeine. "How much longer on the coffee?"

"A couple of minutes.  Sara," he began. "I'm really sorry about last night.  I was pretty far gone."

"I noticed."

"I was wrong to behave the way I did."

There it was. He regretted it even though nothing had really happened.  She was very thankful that she had stopped it when she did. It would have killed her to hear him say he regretted making love to her.  "I knew you'd regret it."

"I'm not sure you understand, Sara," Grissom explained softly. "I was sitting in that bar last night kicking myself for all the chances I've blown with you.  All of the opportunities I've had to let you know how I feel and I blew every one." He poured the coffee. "And then you were there. In my pickled brain, it represented another chance.  Pliny the Elder said 'In wine, there is truth.'  But I know that it was unfair.  You deserve better than that. You deserve a proper courtship."

Sara raised an eyebrow.

"I want to do this, Sara, but I want to do it right."

"I can't argue with that," Sara said, still stunned by this turn of events.

"What would you say if I asked you to dinner Wednesday? Maybe a movie, too?"

"I would like that."

TBC


	2. Dinner and a Movie

A/N: A big thank you to Psyched for being a great beta!

Sara looked herself up and down in the full-length mirror on her bathroom door.  The bed was littered with rejected outfits.  A skirt or pants?  Casual or not so casual?  Sexy, but not too sexy?  It was quite unusual for her to agonize over wardrobe like this, but then this event was quite unusual.  A date with Gil Grissom.  Date—the word sounded odd in Sara's mind when used in the same sentence as Gil Grissom.

She decided on a fairly casual ensemble consisting of black slacks and a nice blouse.  Now, what to do with her hair?  The dark curls hung loosely around her shoulders, framing her face.  Briefly she toyed with the idea of straightening the locks, but then reasoned that maybe he should see the real her, the Sara Sidle that existed outside of the crime lab.  She applied slightly more make-up than she normally did, but used caution to avoid applying too much.

The ringing of the telephone filled her with dread.  When she glanced at the caller ID, her fears were confirmed.  Why was Grissom calling when he was due to arrive any minute?  She braced herself for the worst as she answered the phone, fully expecting him to cancel their date, "Hello?"

"Sara, hi, it's me."

"Hi," she responded warily.

He must have heard the fear in her voice, "I really am coming. I'm just going to be a few minutes late.  I-15's closed; I think there's an accident.  Traffic is a nightmare."

"Oh, okay.  I'll see you when you get here." She breathed a sigh of relief and replaced the receiver.

Satisfied with her appearance, she turned on the television and tried to relax while she waited.

The knock came sooner than Sara had expected, just ten minutes after Grissom's telephone call to inform her that he would be late.  She quickly switched off the television, reminding herself that she probably shouldn't let Grissom catch her watching "Saved By the Bell" just yet.  When she opened the door, Grissom grinned shyly, but made no move to enter.

"Hi," he extended his right hand to her. "I'm your date for the evening.  My name's Gil."

Sara didn't miss a beat.  She shook his hand warmly, "Pleased to meet you, Gil.  I'm Sara."

She grabbed her purse and they made their way to his car, first date nervousness weighing heavily on them both.  Gil visually appraised his companion discreetly.  His own appearance had not gone unnoticed by Sara.  He was wearing jeans, a deep blue shirt that accented his eyes magnificently, a sport coat and a just a touch of delicious-smelling cologne.

"I think I got the better end of this deal," Gil remarked sincerely.

Sara smiled at his compliment, "Actually, I was just thinking I had the better end of the deal."

"So," Gil began as he opened her car door for her. "With or without an 'H'?"

"What?"

"Sara.  With or without an 'H'?"

"Without," her grin widened with her curiosity.  How far was he planning to take this game?

He moved to the driver's side, buckled his seatbelt and headed out of the parking lot. "Why no 'H'?"

"My parents are…_different_."

"Different?"

"I'm really lucky I'm not Moonbeam or Cascade or maybe Owl."

"I see."

"No, you don't," she challenged teasingly. "You can't relate at all, can you?"

"My parents were more conventional," he answered, then added with a wink, "in that respect anyway.  How hungry are you?"

"Not much.  Why?"

"I though we'd catch a movie first, if that's all right."

"Sounds great.  What movie?"

"Are you a Tolkien fan?"

"Of course."

"_The Return of the King_ is playing on the IMAX."

"It's fantastic."

"You've seen it?" Gil failed to hide his disappointment.

"The day it opened.  But, um, I could definitely see it again.  Three hours of staring at Viggo Mortensen and Orlando Bloom." The expression on Grissom's face made her immediately with she hadn't said the last part.

"Are you sure? We could see something else," he offered.

"It's fine. I'd love to see it again. I saw _The Fellowship of the Ring_ in the theater at least ten times.  Have you seen this one?"

"No. I saw the others on DVD. I don't get to the movies much."

"Then you _have_ to see it on the IMAX screen," she gave him her gap-toothed grin.

*^*^*^*^*^*

"I wonder why the Tolkien family is so upset that these films were made," Sara commented as she cut her salad.

"I think maybe they liked the mystique," Gil surmised.  "As long as it's only on paper, the reader is free to envision the characters using his or her own interpretations.  Once it's on film, Peter Jackson's interpretation becomes the standard."

"Granted, they took some creative liberties, but by and large, they pretty closely followed Tolkien's vision, I think.

"Well, it was a story ripe for the leap to the cinema, now that the special effects technology exists."

"Now I read they're making The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series into a film."

"Really," Grissom's curiosity was piqued.

"Intriguing, isn't it?" Sara smiled. "You knew once the Lord of the Rings was made that The Hitchhiker's Guide couldn't be far behind."

"I'm curious about the casting."

"There was a little in the article about the casting.  I forgot most of it, but I do remember that Bill Nighy is cast as Slartibartfast."

"Bill Nighy?" Gil shook his head. "Funny, I see him more as Zaphod Beeblebrox."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Gil spoke up.

"This is where I generally get into trouble.  Turns out that most women don't want to hear about the body farm on a date," he shrugged. 

Sara smiled coyly, "You've been dating the wrong women.  I would _love_ to hear about the body farm."

"You haven't been there?" Gil looked genuinely surprised. "We'll have to do that sometime.  They have some fascinating experiments in progress at the moment."

Grissom found himself amazed at how smoothly the evening was progressing.  Could it really be this simple? Maybe he had been making things far more difficult than they needed to be. 

As the date wound down, Gil walked Sara to the door of her apartment.  They paused outside after she had opened the door.   He pondered the appropriateness of kissing her on the first date.

Sensing his uncertainly, Sara leaned in and gave him a quick, sweet kiss on the lips.  She smiled warmly, "Thanks for everything, Gil.  I had a great time tonight."

"So did I.  Can I see you again?"

"You'd better," she told him with a wink. "Goodnight."

TBC


	3. Reflections

**A/N**: I really can't say enough about the wonderful support from the folks at the PwF chat room. You guys are the greatest!

**Spoilers**:  References to Bully for You and All For Our Country.

"Do you have your badge?" Grissom queried as they were leaving Sara's apartment.

"Do I need it?" Sara couldn't for the life of her imagine why she'd need her identification badge on a date.

"Well, I have mine," he replied.  "And most of the guards know me.  But bring yours just in case.  That way, if anyone questions why we're there, it will appear work related.  They're not fond of tourists and gawkers."

"Wait, wait," she finally caught on. "Are we going to the body farm?"

"Not good?" Gil frowned.

"Sweeeeet!"

Her enthusiasm caused a wide grin to spread across Gil's face.  It nearly matched the one in his heart.  He had feared that the events of the last two years had forever destroyed the zest with which she had approached her work.  Her once eager nature had been replaced over time with a resigned, if not flat, affect.

He had known her for nearly ten years now, and she still amazed him.  Sure, he had met people before who were curious about his hobbies and passions, but as soon as he would begin to explain things to them in terms that they understood, their curiosity quickly turned to disgust.  "Gruesome Grissom" was a term that, although he grudgingly admitted applied, still hurt his feelings when flung at him by others.  Except Sara.  He could recall her using it only once, and it hadn't bothered him.  He supposed the reason it hadn't bothered him was because she was the only person he'd ever met who was just as interested in these topics as he was.  It was undeniably refreshing to spend time with someone who truly understood. 

Beautiful.  Intelligent.  Passionate.  A kindred spirit.  Sara embodied everything he could want in a mate.  Conversing with her was easy and stimulating.  So why did he find it so difficult to open up to her?  Why had it taken him more than three years and the shock of a victim bearing an uncanny resemblance to reach out to her?  He now knew that the answer was fear.  Fear of professional consequences, fear of intimacy, fear of rejection, and not the least among them, fear of the unknown.  Fear had kept him from happiness, but now he that he had decided to face his fear, he felt an odd sense of liberation.

Rolling to a stop outside the gate of the Forensic Anthropology Facility, he lowered his window and flashed his badge at the Peter, a guard he knew.  

"Good evening, Mr. Grissom," Peter recognized him and buzzed open the gate.

"Thank you, Peter."

Grissom parked the car and retrieved a flashlight and a packet of papers from his glove box.  "I printed out a listing of the current residents," he grinned at Sara, handing the papers to her.  "I hope you have lemons at home."

Sara thumbed through the document, pleased to see that it provided a map of the facility, with the locations of the bodies clearly marked and the corresponding experiments described below the entries.

"Wow," Sara paused beside a partially decomposed cadaver submerged in a small swimming pool. "It looks like, uh, Freddy's been here a while."  

"Freddy died from blunt force trauma to the head, motorcycle accident I believe.  He's here to help determine the rate of brain decomp in an exposed brain versus a brain that's still enclosed in the skull. Which brings us to Howard," Grissom shone the flashlight to illuminate a second body at the other side of the pool.  "Howard died of natural causes."

The pair moved along a pathway toward the next grotesque experiment.  "So, there are 22 bodies here at the moment.  Where do they get them?"

"Donations mostly.  Believe it or not, there's usually a waiting list.  You'd be amazed how many people want to donate their body to the body farm," Gil said. "With each wave of new publicity comes a new wave of donations.  Why take up more space filling a hole in the ground when your body could be of far more use in research after you've finished with it?"

"Is that your plan?" Sara cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Sure," Grissom shrugged. "I don't know about the body farm specifically, but I'd definitely donate it to science.  They can do whatever they want with my body after I'm dead.  What about you?"

"Well, I'm sure as hell not going to be buried.  I was thinking cremation, but I'm not averse to donating to science.  I'm already signed up for organ donation."

The next corpse they happened upon was wrapped snugly in a burlap sack.  Sara scanned the paper in her hand, "Martha's doused in gasoline?"

"I don't recall this one," Gil said, attempting to read over her shoulder.

"At the request of the authorities in Bozeman," Sara paraphrased the description.  "Testing a theory about a murder there.  Killer doused the body in gasoline, but since he didn't set fire to it, they're not sure why."

"It seems like they have a good amount of unused space," she surveyed the landscape. "I wonder why they only have 22 bodies at a time if there's a waiting list."  
  


"It's a three acre facility.  They have to allow for a certain amount of space per body or they could run into cross-contamination issues," Gil stooped to pick up a silphid beetle from the grass to illustrate his point.  "The validity of the research could be called into question."

"Is it macabre that I'm really enjoying this?" Sara confessed, blushing. "Does it make me evil?"

"Well, if it's evil, then we're evil together," Gil winked.

"Good answer," she smiled.

  
"Ugh!" Sara stopped in her tracks when she saw the garbage bag beside the path.  

"Ah, decomp in a plastic bag," he nodded knowingly. "They're waiting for him to liquefy."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Been there."

"That bad, huh?"

"The worst," she replied. "Seriously, Liquid Man has to be absolutely the most disgusting one I've seen.  He's the only one that ever made me lose my lunch."

Grissom appeared surprised by at her admission.

"That bloated floater that Catherine and I had recently was pretty bad," she continued. "But it didn't quite beat Liquid Man."  

Grissom's curious expression made Sara aware that he had noticed her growing agitation with this topic.  She was secretly thankful that he didn't know that the case had also been the beginning of a disastrous turn in their relationship—it was the day she had met Hank Peddigrew.  If only Grissom knew how desperately she wished she could turn back time and do things differently.

When Gil returned her to her apartment that evening, he walked her to the door.  "Now that you've seen my idea of a second date, how badly damaged are my chances of a third?"  He grinned playfully.

"Well, you do know how to show a girl a good time…" she returned the tease. "I'll give you another shot."  She kissed him softly on the lips.  "I've always wanted to see the body farm. Thanks."

Grissom couldn't wipe the grin off his face, "Good night."

TBC


	4. A Night at the Opera all apologies to Qu...

A/N: Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing.  The Aida summary is courtesy of http://archivio.opera.it

Sara Sidle checked her hair and make-up one last time.  Still good, she sighed. When Grissom advised her to dress formally for their date, she knew she had to brace herself for anything.  It was rare she had occasion to wear a beautiful gown, and she wasn't going to waste it.

She couldn't imagine what adventure he had planned for tonight; so far their dates had consisted of the standardized "dinner and a movie" and the not so standard visit to the Forensic Anthropology Facility.  Up to this point in their fledgling relationship, Gil had proven to be full of surprises.  She smiled to herself as she heard the knock at her door.

Stunned. Yes, stunned was the word Sara could use to describe her reaction upon opening her door to a tuxedo clad Gil Grissom.  The word 'yum' also applied, she reasoned once the 'stunned' wore off.  

"You look…exquisite," Gil remarked softly.  He knew it was impolite to stare, and yet he couldn't take his eyes off of her.  She wore a knee length spaghetti strapped gown, the coppery color highlighting her hair and eyes in a breathtaking fashion.  Her hair was swept up, with a few loose wavy tendrils framing her face.

"You're pretty exquisite yourself."

"Shall we?" he offered her an elbow.

Sara's curiosity piqued as the Bellagio valet drove away with the car.  Bellagio?  Though the famous hotel and casino was probably the most beautiful in Las Vegas, Sara had difficulty viewing it as anything but an ornate crime scene.  "Uh, Griss, I mean Gil, why are we here?" _That's right_, she reminded herself,_ the date guy is Gil._

"Dinner," he responded as if the answer should be obvious and pointed toward the Olives restaurant across the manmade lake.  Reaching the restaurant required a hike through the casino, and as with all casinos, the planners had made certain that the route was circuitous, winding around bank after bank and strategically placed slot machines.  Above the familiar din, a woman's squeal could be heard.

Sara rolled her eyes, "Sounds like someone just won five bucks." 

"Or someone snatched her purse," Gil deadpanned.

The maitre d' greeted them with a smile as Gil introduced himself, "Ah, Dr. Grissom, right this way."  He led them to a table overlooking the lake.  Another squeal resounded nearby.

"A lot of purse-snatchings around here," Sara mused dryly.

The food was superb, as was the view.  Sara had caught glimpses of the renowned show of fountains and lights many times, but had never taken the opportunity to actually watch it.  Gil had succeeded again.  She turned her attention back to him with a grin.

"Thank you for taking me to the body farm.  It makes me feel like a freak to be fascinated with something like that, but what can I say?  I am what I am."

"You're always wanting to learn, Sara. Your brain never stops.  That's one of the things I love about you," Grissom told her candidly. He continued, seemingly unaware of the significance of his previous sentence, " 'People like you and I do not grow old, no matter how long we live.  We never cease to stand like curious children before the great mystery into which we were born'."

"To whom can we attribute that little gem?"

"Einstein."

"So," Sara asked after the waiter had delivered their meals. "The formalwear gives me the impression there's more on the agenda for the evening than dinner at Olives."

"Well, this is something that I'm pretty sure is new to you.  I don't know if you'll like it.  I'm hoping, but I don't know."

"Try me."

"It's a fundraiser for charity.  Black tie affair," he studied her face for a reaction. "They're doing a production of _Aida_."

"Opera?"

"Is that good or bad? We can skip it."

"Like you said, it's new to me.  I don't have anything against opera, I've just never been exposed to it," she smiled widely for him. "Why would someone who's always wanting to learn pass up an opportunity for a new experience?"  She wasn't feeling quite bold enough to add verbally what she was thinking: _I wouldn't want to deprive you of what you love about me._

Gil and Sara took their seats in the box, following the usher's direction.  She decided to use the time before the show opened to study the provided program, hoping to get an idea of what she was about to see.  The performance was in it's original Italian, and she knew she'd need all the help she could get.

As the opera began, Gil frequently leaned in to whisper into Sara's ear, keeping her abreast of the story.

"Ramades has been chosen by the oracle to lead the Egyptian army against the Ethiopian invaders.  He jumps at the chance, because he's in love with Aida, an Ethiopian slave and he wants to prove his bravery to her.  She, of course, is mortified.  She's never shared the information that her father is Amonasro, the King of Ethiopia.  Meanwhile, the Egyptian Pharaoh's daughter is Amneris, and she's in love with Ramades, too."

"Sounds like a soap opera…wait minute, that's probably where the term came from," she chuckled, blushing.

Sara surprised herself by enjoying the music and the story.  She was completely enthralled.  The second act began with the victorious Ramades returning from battle.

"One of the soldiers Ramades has captured is Amonasro, but he has no idea that the prisoner is the King of Ethiopia," Grissom explained. "As a reward, the Pharaoh gives her daughter Amneris to him for marriage."

"This is amazing," Sara told him under her breath.  The performers poured their heart and soul into the opera, charging it with emotion.

"Ramades and Aida are planning to run away together, but she feels obligated to help her father.  She asks Ramades about the city's defenses, and he tells her about an unguarded pass.  When Amonasro steps out of the shadows and reveals his identity, Ramades feels betrayed by Aida.  He's arrested for giving crucial information to the enemy and sentenced to be buried alive."

Sara watched in fascination as Amneris approached Ramades in his cell.

"Amneris tells him she'll secure his freedom if he'll stay with her and renounce his love for Aida.  But he refuses to betray the woman he loves, choosing death instead."

"Why is Aida at the execution?" Sara asked Gil as the final scene began.

"She's come to die with him so that they can spend eternity together."

"Wow, that's dedication."

As the curtain fell and the lights came on, Gil turned to his date, "So, what did you think of the operatic genre?"

"Not what I was expecting," she grinned. "I was pleasantly surprised."

"Would you like to come in?" Sara asked nervously as they stood outside her apartment.

Gil paused for a moment before answering, "I would. But I won't. Not yet."  Inwardly, his stomach lurched as he prayed she would understand.

"Okay," she smiled sweetly.  As she turned to open her front door, Gil gently yet decisively turned her back around to face him.  Answering the question in her eyes, he brought his lips passionately to hers.  His hands moved to her hips, pulling her close.  Sara instinctively reached up to run her fingers through his hair and deepened the kiss.  After a few moments, Gil pulled away and smiled, one hand still on her hip, the other caressing her cheek.

"Good night."

"Good night," she murmured.

TBC


	5. Tilting at Windmills

A/N: Forgive the formatting issues, please.  Ff.net seems to be having difficulty accepting blank lines. A few random notes about reviews: Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed. Specifically

Wiccamage—"Liquid Man" and Hank the Skank made their mind-numbingly disgusting debuts in the 2nd season in episode 204 "Bully for You".

LSI—thanks for the support. It means a great deal coming from a writer of your caliber. I'm enjoying Remember Lake Tahoe as much as I enjoyed A Lion's Pride, and that's really saying something.

Laura Katharine—I'm afraid I'll have to admit to watching Saved By the Bell more than once or twice;-).  Your fluff makes you want to hurl  I always look forward to your fluff. And why are you wasting your time reading this drivel  Get back on the train! I can't wait for your next chapter.

*^*^*^*^*^*

"Do you golf" Grissom asked as he brought the car to a stop at the red light.  Three dates in the book so far, and each had gone well as far as Gil could tell.  He was proverbially holding his breath; he had never been adept at this sort of thing and knew that the success must be only momentary.  He felt certain that he would eventually make a wrong turn and lose her.

"Golf"  Sara glanced over at him, attempting to gauge the seriousness of his inquiry.  "Uh, only if it involves a windmill and a swinging log."  She flashed him a sheepish grin.

Gil turned to her, struggling to keep his chuckle at bay.  He donned the most serious expression he could muster,  "How fortunate for me."

When the green arrow appeared on the traffic light, Gil turned left and pulled into the parking lot of the Scandia Family Fun Center.  "So, golf it is, then," Sara laughed.

"It seemed like as a good a way as any to spend a Tuesday afternoon…I, uh, I'm really not very good at this."

She reassured him with a warm smile, "You're doing way better than you think."  

*^*^*^*^*^*^*

"Two balls, two clubs and a score card," the clerk said, placing the items on the counter.

Grinning, Sara quickly grabbed her desired ball, "Purple!"

Gil raised an amused eyebrow, "I guess I'll take green then."

They approached the first hole, a simple straight shot.  "Par two," Grissom noted.  Sara placed her ball on green and swung her club.

"I'm guessing they get harder as we go," she said as she achieved par.

Gil made a hole in one easily.  "Where did you go to college"

"What" Sara was momentarily caught off-guard.  "Oh…we're back to _that_ game."

"It's not a game," he corrected with a lop-sided grin. "It's a vehicle."

"Harvard.  Theoretical Physics." 

"Why Harvard"

"Why not"  She watched as Gil took his turn at the second hole, "And Gil  This _vehicle_ is on a two-way street."

Gil was silent as they moved to the next hole.  He rewarded Sara's bogey with a nervous smile.  "What would you like to know"

For many years to come, Sara would refer to that instant as the moment her brain froze.  _So many questions…where to start…don't scare him…sooooo many questions…start small, Sara!  
  
_

"What do your parents do"

"My mother is an art dealer."

"And your father"

"My father…" he handed the score card to her and positioned his ball. "Was a businessman.  He had quite a few dealings with communist China."  

"Any siblings"

"Nope."

*^*^*^*^*^*

Several greens later, they approached the eighth.  It appeared simple initially, but upon further inspection it was deceptively difficult.  The hole lay atop a small squared mound.  Grissom's shot, which on a flat surface would have stopped only an inch or two from the hole, rolled down the other side of the mound.

"What do your art dealer mom and businessman dad think of their son's choice of forensics"  The thought of Gil's parents intrigued Sara.  She was eager to learn what made him tick.  Her shot almost made it into the cup, but she had not hit quite hard enough.  It rolled up to the mound, to the edge of the hole, then back again toward Sara. She stopped it with her foot.  

"My mom," Gil's club made contact with the green ball, sending up the side of the mound and back down the other side. "Is very accepting.  My father was never really a factor in my life.  He was…absent when I was growing up."

"And now"  
  


"He committed suicide about 25 years ago," he spoke matter-of-factly.

Sara was unsure of what to say, "I'm sorry, Gil."

"Don't be," He replied reassuringly. "It's ancient history."

"I, I shouldn't have pushed."

"You didn't.  Come on, we're here to have a good time," he motioned for her to take her turn.

This time, her shot was too forceful. 

"Damn! It's not going to stop at the top of a hill.  How could it It's not possible."

Gil smirked and shrugged his shoulders, "I majored in biology.  This is a problem that requires a physicist."  The green ball rolled up the hill and dropped neatly into the hole.

The death glare Sara directed at him would have frightened him if he didn't know it was all in fun.  Three shots later, she finally succeeded in causing the purple ball to fall into the cup.

Relieved to be finished with the hole, Sara bounded ahead to the next while Gil hastily jotted down their scores.

"Hey! Slow down. I'm not as young as I used to be."  

She stopped and waited for him to catch up, all the carefully scrutinizing the ground around her.  

"Looking for something" Gil asked.

"Making sure there aren't any banana peels."

He was suitably perplexed, "Excuse me" 

"Well, since you seem to think you've already got one foot in the grave…"  

"Everything I've said is true, Sara. I'm not a young man any more."

"You're not an old man, either," she responded gently.

"I need to know that you realize what you're getting into," Gil's agitation was becoming obvious. "I'm almost fifty—"

"Forty-seven.  You're forty-seven," Sara told him firmly. "See I know what I'm getting into."  When he simply stared silently at her, she continued, "I don't care. It doesn't matter to me." She reached out and ran her hand slowly along his beard.  "You're the perfect man for me at any age."

*^*^*^*^*^*

Sara never suffered defeat well, and this was no exception.  Gil had beaten her quite easily on the miniature golf course.  Walking back toward the front of the entertainment complex, she saw her opportunity for redemption.  "Race cars."

Gil followed her gaze to the small race cars speeding around the track.  "Race cars  Most of them have children driving."

"Maybe I can't out-golf you, but I know I can out-drive you," Sara challenged.

They were directed to their cars by Scandia's staff, who, much to Sara's dismay, put her into a car parked several cars behind Gil's.  She had her work cut out for her.

"When the light turns green, you're off.  You should be able to get in several laps," the employee announced to the group of fifteen drivers. "When you near the pit and the light turns yellow, that's your signal to slow down and enter the pit."

The light changed to green and the cars jumped forward. The race was on.  Sara depressed her gas pedal all the way to the floor, determined to catch and overtake Gil.  She passed several cars, but soon encountered an unexpected obstacle; the car immediately in front of hers was driven by a child of about twelve who was trying his hardest to ensure that no one got around him.  The task required nearly two laps to perform, but eventually she managed to sneak by the kid, sneering at him as she did so.

Gil was receiving a great deal of enjoyment from Sara's misfortune.  He glanced back over his shoulder, surprised to see she was no longer trapped behind the bratty child, but instead bearing down on him.  He cut to the inside of the track, hoping to cut her off at the turn.  As he rounded the bend nearest the pit, he observed that the light had changed to yellow.  Dutifully, he retarded his speed and cruised into the pit area.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her coming.  Sara had taken advantage of the yellow light, and zoomed past him.  She pulled to a stop in the pit, laughing.

"That's right, Sara," Gil teased. "Cheat."

"All's fair in love and race cars," her mischievous grin morphed into her famous gap-toothed high wattage smile.

TBC


	6. Scientific Discoveries

A/N:  Sorry for the delay. My muse seems to have gone AWOL.  I owe a debt of gratitude to the PwF chatters for their help.  This chapter is shorter than I like, but it crosses a hurdle I was having a hard time crossing.

Gil Grissom paced nervously across the hardwood floor of his townhouse.  He didn't have company often.  With the exception of Catherine once, he couldn't recall the last time anyone had been to his home on a matter that wasn't work-related.  He forced himself to acknowledge that Sara had been there, too, but only because he had overindulged. Thus, he knew he was entertaining-deficient.  Squinting, he scrutinized the room.  _Something's not right._  He moved the magazines to the other end of the coffee table.  _Ah, that's it. No, that's not it._  He moved them back to the center.  _It's not about magazines, Gil.  Maybe it's the throw rug?  Nope_, he smoothed it with his foot, _no wrinkles_.  He straightened a display of butterflies on the wall, only to realize it was already straight.  _It's not about the house, Gil!_

The true object of his anxiety would be arriving any moment.  He couldn't believe he had actually invited her into his home and made dinner for her.  Letting someone into his personal space was akin to, well, letting someone into his personal life, and that was something he did do casually.  He peered into the oven and reassured himself that the lasagna was doing well.  While he considered himself a good cook, he'd never before attempted to make meatless dishes.  _Calm down, Gil.  Lasagna? Check. Bread? Check.  Salad? Check.  Wine? Check._

Once Sara arrived, Gil found his nerves calmed considerably.  They greeted one another warmly and sat in the living room.  "What's this?" Sara asked, pointing to the television.

"Mammoth something or other," Grissom shrugged. "It's Discovery."

"Oh, I've seen this one.  This where they find a relatively intact mammoth carcass frozen in ice in Siberia and study it to learn about mammoths and their environment."

"Uh, yeah," Gil nodded. Why was he not surprised that she had seen the program?  

"They had another one out recently about Neanderthals…it was pretty fascinating."

Grissom smiled. Her enthusiasm was both endearing and infectious.  "I enjoyed that one."

They spent some time discussing the displacement and subsequent extinction of Neanderthals caused by Cro-Magnon encroachment, and the scientific significance of the fact that the mammoth proved Siberia had once been a grassy plain.  Grissom was accustomed to people tuning him out when he spoke of these types of topics, and Sara's mutual interest was truly a breath of fresh air.  

After a short while, they relocated to the dining table. Grissom served the salad and poured the wine.  The conversation continued about a variety of subjects, but both were careful to avoid discussing work.  They had been very successful thus far at keeping separate the working relationship and the personal relationship, but both also knew that it was inevitable the two worlds would collide.

They leisurely dined and conversed, thoroughly enjoying each other's company.  Soon, the lasagna and bread were gone and they retired to the living room.  "Nothing on," Gil frowned as he flipped through the channels.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Sara grinned. "No matter how many channels you have, they still find a way to all show crap at the same time."

Grissom grunted and switched off the television.  He sunk back into the sofa next to Sara, appearing to be lost in thought.

"What…what are we doing?" Sara asked softly.

"Huh?"

"Us. What are we doing? Is there a plan?"

"I'm trying, Sara," Gil sighed. "I really am…"

"And you're doing great," she reassured him. "I'm just a little too curious for my own good sometimes."  She flashed him an embarrassed grin.

"I've never been in love before," he breathed candidly.  "I'm not sure how to handle it.  Part of me wants to jump in with both feet, throw caution to the wind, live in the moment.  Another part of me, the skeptic, wants to take it very slowly.  The whole thing scares the hell out of me."

"Did you just say what I think you said?"

"Yes," Gil removed his glasses and placed them on the coffee table.  "I'm in love with you, Sara."

Sara swallowed, attempting to process the information. She had always wished for this, but never really dared to hope for it. "I love you too, Gil.  You don't have to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you," he pulled her close to his chest. "I'm afraid of the situation.  There are so many ways for this to go awry…"

"But maybe it won't go awry.  If we work at it and want it to work out badly enough, it just might work out."

As Gil leaned in to kiss her, a shrill noise rattled them.  Grissom reached to the end table and grabbed the offending telephone.  "Damn it! It's Catherine! I'm not on call tonight."

Grissom's conversation with Catherine sounded very one-sided to Sara's ears.  Gil barely got a word in, just a series of "Uh huh"s and "okay"s.  She wondered for a few moments why his surprise at their colleague's call caught her attention_.  I'm not on call tonight_. That was it.  Did that mean that Catherine didn't call him socially?  Sara had always assumed that she did.  But then why would Grissom assume her call was work-related?

"I'm so sorry," Gil said sincerely as he hung up the phone.  "Bugs."

"It's okay," Sara smiled and placed her hand over his heart. "I know where you work. I know how it is."

He tried his hardest to express his gratitude for her acceptance of the premature end of their date.  His previous dates had not at all understood when the situation arose.  But then this was Sara.  Sara was different.  Sara was special.  

TBC


	7. The Wheel of Fate

**A/N**: Again, I must get in a shout-out to the PwF chatters for their invaluable advice and support, not to mention ideas for this chapter.  You guys rock!

Sara slipped on her sunglasses as she and Gil approached the ticket booth.  It was a lovely sunny spring afternoon, perfect weather for the County Fair.  All around, it seemed to Sara, were children. Children holding their mothers' hands.  Children on their fathers' shoulders.  Children bounding ahead of their parents.  Happy families as far as the eye could see.  Sara couldn't help but wonder how all of these people managed to make families and relationships look so easy.  She silently wondered if Gil would want children someday.  At their age it would have to be someday soon.

As their turn at the window arrived, Sara moved past Gil, pulling the money out of her purse.  "Two, please. Rides, too."

"I'll get it, Sara," Grissom protested.

"Nope," she insisted. "I invited you. It's on me."

Grissom prepared a more persuasive protest, but quickly abandoned it, realizing that this was a fight he would not win.  Knowing when to argue and when to give in was one of the many skills he had developed while learning how to relate to Sara Sidle over the past several weeks.

"I never took you for a State Fair kind of person," Gil observed as they entered the gate.

Sara shrugged, "Why not? It's really very interesting from a sociologic perspective." Noting Grissom's raised eyebrow, she elaborated, "It's a fabulous place to watch people.  The sights, the sounds…the families interacting.  Not to mention the candy apples!" Spotting her quarry, she whipped out her wallet and purchased the caramel covered treat.  "You want one?"

"No, but I'll take some cotton candy," Gil responded playfully.

They savored their candies as they toured the large exhibit hall and admired the award-winning foliage on display.  Sara paused in front of a brilliant orchid, gingerly fingering the leaves.  

"Something special about that one?" Grissom inquired.

"You don't remember?"

"Should I?"

"This looks just like the one you sent me a couple of years ago."

"Oh. Yeah."  Grissom cursed himself, unsure whether or not he should confess that he had not actually seen the plant. He hadn't even specified the type of plant, leaving that detail up to the florist.  He didn't have to wonder for long, as Sara read him like a book.

"You didn't see it, did you?" 

"No, er, not exactly."

Though she tried to appear angry, her grin betrayed her.  "It's all right, Grissom. Gil.  I'll let you off the hook…again." She laughed, rolling her eyes dramatically.  "Just share your cotton candy and we'll call it even."

The pair moved on to the animal barn.  They spent a great deal of time there, largely because Sara had a habit of stopping frequently to reach through the bars of the cages and pet the rabbits, goats and cattle.  

"You're not going to pet this one?" Gil asked dryly as they paused before a particularly large Angus bull.  Sara gave him a dirty look and walked ahead to the next pen.  Located on the other side of the barn was the midway, with its games and rides.

"Ferris wheel?" Grissom suggested.

"Certainly."

They boarded the double Ferris wheel, settling in close to one another despite the wide seat.  The lights of city appeared below as they slowly rotated to the top of the wheel.

"Oh my God, what a view!  It's almost as good as the top of the Strat," Sara enthused.  After two more rotations, the wheel ground to a stop with the two CSIs once again at the top.  "Must be loading," Sara surmised.

Grissom stared at the base of the wheel, seeing the ride's operator frantically motioning for a maintenance worker.  "I don't think so," he told her grimly. "I think we're stuck for a while."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding," she leaned her head over the side of the car and watched the maintenance crew scurry about the engine.

"Relax," Gil slipped an arm around her. "We'll be fine."

Sara's demeanor changed as she pondered the situation.  A sly smile crept across her face.  "I suppose we could find something to do to pass the time."

"Like what?" Gil mocked.

Sara laughed, "I spy with my little eye…"

She was silenced by Gil's lips on hers.  Though neither could remember who deepened the kiss, it deepened quickly.  She became aware on a primal level of Gil's hand slowly moving up the inside of her blouse, and responded by leaning in to him and placing her own hands and his chest.  

Grissom couldn't believe he was doing this.  He had never been the most adventurous man when it came to these matters, but somehow Sara seemed to bring it out in him.  Was he really groping her at the top if a Ferris wheel?  The sensation created by her bare skin against his hands was exquisite.  He was jarred back to reality when the wheel began to move again.  

He pulled away from her and smoothed her blouse back down.  He grinned when he noticed the slight flush to her cheeks.  "Are we done with the fair?" he asked suggestively.

"I, um," Sara fought to regain her faculties. "I think I'm ready to go…elsewhere."

*^*^*^*^*^*

They said little on the drive to Grissom's townhouse, nervous anticipation building in both of them.  Grissom opened the door and allowed her to enter first.  He shut the door behind them.  Almost before he could turn around, she was kissing him.  They gradually worked their way to his bedroom, shedding clothing along the way.

The lovemaking was intense and passionate, yet tender and loving.  Sara had always believed that he would be like that; after all, there was not an aspect of life that he didn't give his entire concentration.  Everything he did, he did well.

Afterward, she lay in his arms, enjoying the feel of skin against skin. She had never felt so connected to another human being.  It was as if he was the other part of her.  Gil was feeling the same emotions.  He didn't know that it was truly possible to be one with another person; he had always thought it was a myth made up by romance novelists, poets and greeting card manufacturers.  She would make a wonderful mother, he told himself.

His stomach growled as he climbed out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Sara asked.

"To make us some food," he winked. "We haven't eaten anything but cotton candy.'

"I ate an apple." With a mischievous grin, she added, "And of course, that other thing."

"Well, now you're going to have more.  You just burned up a lot of calories."

Gil pulled on a pair of sweatpants and made his way to the kitchen.  He didn't know what the future held for him, but he knew he was happy with the direction his life was headed now.  It truly surprised him to realize how much he loved her.  He couldn't imagine how he lived all of those years without her in his arms.  And now, thanks to Sara, he would never be alone again.

The End


End file.
